


Pet Names

by maniacalmole



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 05:59:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6067762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maniacalmole/pseuds/maniacalmole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley tries a different strategy on his plants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pet Names

                “Hello, darling.” Yellow eyes peered through a veil of green striped leaves. Crowley crouched by one of his plants, the large potted _Epipremnum aureum._ Also known as ‘devil’s ivy’, mostly because it was nearly impossible to kill, though in this instance, the name fit for other reasons. ‘Potted’ plant was a term that was not really suitable anymore, as, beyond being easy to keep alive, the vine had taken over the whole flat by now. All Crowley had to do was make sure it didn’t bully the others, and he found his new tactics of persuasion to be more effective than he had anticipated. The vine had many names, ‘hunter’s robe’, ‘money plant’, and, today, though only one person called it this, ‘angel’.

                “Angel, you look marvelous.” The demon ran his hand gently down one side of the vine, feeling the health and strength of the leaves. He grinned and turned to the next plant, a small orchid. It was practically miniscule in comparison to the vine, which had grown in an arc around it, giving it plenty of space in accordance with Crowley’s encouragement. The plant had not yet bloomed, the bud only cracked with a sliver of the flower within peeping out cautiously. “Hi, sweetheart,” Crowley said in barely more than a whisper. “Still not ready yet? Don’t worry, your time will come.”

                He made his rounds through the room, holding his plant mister in one hand, using the other to run his fingers through the leaves that stretched well beyond their originally dedicated space. Crowley had stopped trying to limit their growth to one section of his flat. Vines and branches reached across the room. Dead leaves and petals scattered the floor, but they were always replaced by fresh new ones on the plants they came from. The demon allowed them to grow in their natural cycle, these days. He had stopped trying to make them grow into orderly, sculpted shapes. He had even stopped trying to pick plants that ‘went’ together in a particular style. There was no style to the garden his flat had transformed into, decorated with plants from all over the world, tropical next to desert, leafy greens next to succulents next to spiny roses. If he saw a plant he liked, he brought it home, even if that meant carefully digging up wildflowers that most people considered weeds. Not every leaf was perfect, not every flower bloomed. They were brown in spots and lopsided, and they never grew in ways he expected them to. But he sometimes liked the surprises.

                “Gorgeous, that is amazing,” he said. He gave a low whistle, staring at the hibiscus that had not bloomed for weeks. A new flower had appeared, twice as large as usual and with as many shades of red and orange as there are in flames. Crowley beamed. “Need some water, love?” He spritzed the plant and moved on.

                There was a noise at the door, and after a moment, it opened. Crowley caught a glimpse, through the leaves and stems blocking his view, of Aziraphale entering his flat. The demon made his way through the indoor garden to meet him.

                “The key works,” the angel called out. He smiled when Crowley emerged from the foliage. “Are you sure you want me walking in whenever I like? I could still knock first, you know.”

                “Come in whenever you want,” Crowley replied. The earnestness in his own tone surprised him, though it shouldn’t have.

                Aziraphale walked over to him and put his hands on the demon’s shoulders. He smiled warmly, leaned forward, and gave him a kiss. “Hello, darling.”

                Crowley shivered at the words, spoken in a low murmur. Aziraphale pulled away from him, his hands still on his shoulders.

                “Oh, dear,” the angel said. “It doesn’t bother you when I call you those names, does it? Here I’ve been doing it these past two weeks without a thought.”

                Crowley shook his head. “No.” He was able to stop himself from blushing, but he had forgotten that he was not wearing his sunglasses. Aziraphale could see the expression in his eyes.

                “Good,” the angel said with a tone of understanding. His eyes moved upwards to the top of Crowley’s head. He tried to stifle a laugh. “My dear. You have a leaf in your hair.”

                Crowley grinned. Aziraphale removed the leaf, letting his hand linger, brushing the side of the demon’s face. Crowley leaned forward and kissed him again. “Thank you, my dear.”


End file.
